From
Hebrews 11:1-5
H,
The
constant question is about intimacy with God. How do we get into that? It is
hard to comprehend something that is not physical in terms of love. We have
been effectively socialized into seeing and touching love that we do not even
know what it will feels like to not have love in that way. This is the
challenge that confronts us; to make an unknowable quantity into the measure of
a knowing God and to see the quality of intimacy with this invisible being as a
new reality every day.
I do not know how this is
achieved. I know the obvious answers but they all spell religious duty and
though they are all good and fine in their place, they do not take us closer. I
am talking about a living presence of love in our lives that paints through,
not over, everything else. Like that sense a person gets that they cannot be
anything less than friend/lover/father/sibling and any dereliction from that
duty is wrong and must be amended. Well, that is a small part of it. I am
trying to talk about a sense of being in love and in intimacy, the kind where
your whole life is summarized in that other person’s pleasure and light. Where there
is no holding back and no fear and no hesitation, just an endless tessellation of
one soul to another, in shapes and forms where the only boundary is devotion.
I think I am explaining this
all badly but you know how it went for me. I had a series of knocks on the head
and heart and then I fell headlong into the brush. I could hear Him but not in
words. More like in urges. The urge to do this or that and the older I got and
the real nature of things showed up as wretched in my cynical mind, the closer I
got to this idea of a white-place. I have sought the pure intimacy all my life.
This place where I can be myself not as indulgence but as safety and wholeness spiraling
up into meaning.
It has not been enough for
me, the Sunday service or midweek fair. I am tired of neat boxes and easy
answers and the soul clenching myth of routines. I desire a living, breathing
connection to all things real. I want truth at its utmost or else this pale and
terrible world is all there is. If this is so and I have been high on my supply
all this time then like Cadmus I have to call this all absurd, living and dying
and being afraid. I do not think it is something anyone can create. I do not
think there is anything special or deep in feeling this hunger of the soul. I think
the human core is like that. I think we all try to define the something more. Some
of us go back to source and try to work it out from there. We fail but that is
just how we start to kneel and look up. We give up some of this solid ground to
walk on water. We look up and go for walks and talk to the clouds until we see
that old face looking back at us. It is an inverse thing. We seek the other
universe only hinted at in dreams and miracles and notions and insinuations. We
seek love-divine and the opportunity to go missing during walks with the sublime.
Perhaps one day this ‘some’ will be all. I hope so. My idea of heaven has always
been a place where everyone is.
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